Tree of Stone
by vifetoile89
Summary: Dumbledore and Harry have a talk about the true nature of Hogwarts. A missing moment during HBP.


Harry climbed the stairs to Dumbledore's office. As he did, he ran a hand over the stones of the walls and absently admired the striations in the marble. Marble? It was certainly veined. Maybe it was sedimentary rock. That was the striped kind, right? Harry's dim memories of Muggle school were of little help. He wondered if Hermione would know.

When Harry said the password – "Passionfruit Pavlova" – and entered the office, he was surprised to see Dumbledore leaning back in his chair, listening to what looked very much like a Walkman.

"Sir?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore lifted off the earphones. A faint strain of "Fat-Bottomed Girls" wafted to Harry's ears.

"I thought those – electronics, I mean – didn't work on Hogwarts grounds," Harry said.

"Normally, yes, but being me has its advantages." Dumbledore turned the Walkman off and stowed it carefully in a compartment of his desk. His good hand came up holding a couple of sugar quills.

"Sit down, Harry. Mull things over with me a bit."

Harry sat down opposite Dumbledore and took the sugar quill he offered. For a moment they tasted the candy in companionable silence. Then Dumbledore said, "Have you ever read Hogwarts, a History?"

Harry almost choked on his quill. He suppressed a laugh, swallowed, and said "I can't say I have. My friend Hermione, though, is very familiar with it."

"I am delighted to hear it," Dumbledore said, and for a moment his eyes had that familiar twinkle. "Has she ever reflected on the fact that the book, although admirable, is…"

"'A highly biased and selective history, which glosses over the nastier aspects of the stuff?'" Harry recited. He'd heard Hermione rant on this subject so often now he knew it off by heart.

Dumbledore chortled. "Once again, Miss Granger exceeds my expectations. I am glad to know she is reading critically. Yes, the writers of that book do take something of a rosy view of the school, but their write to their best ability, to the best of their knowledge. Their knowledge, however, is rather incomplete."

"Of course it is, sir. They don't mention the Chamber of Secrets."

"A very good observation – and pertinent to what I wanted to say. Harry, what is beneath this school?"

"Um. The Chamber of Secrets."

"Yes. And what else?"

"The… dungeons?"

"Those are technically part of the school. What else is underneath the school?"

"A lot of rock and water. Sir."

"That answer, Harry, is good, but not what I'm looking for." Dumbledore dusted the grains of sugar off the front of his robe (tonight it was cerulean blue with golden zodiac signs stitched on). "Let me walk you through the founding of Hogwarts… what was not written in the history books." Dumbledore swished and flicked his wand. Lights came out of it, of different colors, and they scattered and formed a scene on the desk: a forest, with mountains that Harry knew. A meadow deep within the forest, with scattered trees. A lake alongside.

"Some thousand years ago, Harry, a falling meteorite landed upon this meadow."

From above the scene, a brilliant streak of light, no bigger than a marble, fell and landed upon a tree in the center of the diorama. The tree promptly burst into flames.

"It collided with a magical tree – I believe it was an oak. The fire, stone, and wood were melded in a powerful, wild enchantment that cannot be replicated by human hands. An entirely new substance was formed. A living thing, no question about that. Do you see how it changed?"

Where the tree had stood, there was now a ring of small standing stones.

"It looks like a little Stonehenge, sir." Harry leaned forward, lifting his glasses and replacing them to be sure of what he was seeing.

"Very like. They are similar structures. Nexuses of powerful magic, something very like stone but alive. Well. A thousand years ago, this structure was new. And no one knew quite what it was, or what it might become. Witches and wizards from all over the world came here. Some wanted to study its magic. Others wanted to claim it."

"And the Four Founders were among them?" Harry guessed.

"Yes. Godric Gryffindor came from the closest to hand – the moorlands. He hoped that monsters might abide here and provide a challenge to his strength. Helga Hufflepuff came next, from the Saxon lands on the Continent. Traveling with her was a witch who went under the name Rowena Ravenclaw, lately of France, but her true origin lay very far to the East. The last to arrive was Salazar Slytherin, from the deserts of Arabia. He brought with him…"

Harry expected to hear 'A boatload of anti-Muggle prejudice' or perhaps 'A book full of evil spells,' but Dumbledore said, "His wife, and a young daughter.

"Most of the people who came here were discouraged. The magic was slow to respond, sluggish. Some predicted that this wellspring of magic would dry up soon. So, many of them left. But the four whose names you know, they remained. They studied. With all the magic at their disposal, they investigated. They discovered that the structure they were dealing with was more like a tree. A tree needs sunshine and rain if it is to thrive. This tree was dying because it did not have… what do you think it lacked?"

"Magic?" Harry offered.

"Yes, magic. And care. Well, Helga was no stranger to tending trees and flowers. She taught the other three what she knew of Herbology. As they tended the tree, the stones above began to grow, and connect. Salazar was the first to suggest it could form a building – he was mindful of his daughter's safety, and thought of protection. Rowena and Godric loved the idea – they were both natural born teachers, and envisioned a school on the spot. Helga thought that young, untried magic would be the perfect nourishment for a growing tree. Their vision grew faster than the tree did."

On the magic lights cast by Dumbledore, little figures in yellow, blue, red, and green skittered and worked about the stone circle. Dumbledore sighed.

"They were very powerful wizards and witches in their youth. They poured their magic – and sometimes their own blood – into the project. It took years. When the work was finished – when the castle was as you see it now – they were all of them reduced in power. But they were now as close as family, and capable of working together to stop any threat, or save anything they held dear.

"But they could not save themselves."

"Sir?" Harry tore his eyes from the scene. Dumbledore's face was drawn, and somber.

"It took many years for the cracks to form into fissures, and then into crevasses. But it did happen. Salazar's insistence on protection from Muggle persecution became an obsession. Godric's stubbornness turned into arrogance and righteousness. Rowena shut herself up in her study, and when a tragedy struck, she turned to Helga for help, but Helga said that Rowena ought to reap what she had sowed." Dumbledore sighed, and went on.

"But what they created, in that brief, shining moment of cooperation, has lasted for generation upon generation. Hogwarts is a living structure. The towers and turrets are branches; the windows and tiles are like leaves. The students and teachers who live here give a little magic with every spell, every potion, every card laid down – and that magic feeds the tree itself."

"A symbiotic relationship," Harry said. Biology class from long, long ago suddenly occurred to him again.

"Precisely, Harry. Precisely."

Dumbledore fell silent again. Harry tried to process what he had heard.

"Hogwarts is alive," he said softly. Somehow, it didn't surprise him. He'd always thought he had imagined the feeling that Hogwarts welcomed him home every September 1st – that the school missed its students during the summer months. But maybe it wasn't imagination after all. "It makes sense."

"I'm glad that you think so."

"Sir – " Harry blurted, "Does Voldemort know about this?" The question came out as a whisper. Something in Harry didn't want to say the word too loudly in this place.

"That, I can only guess. I have never told him. He does, however, possess a keen mind and may have worked out the truth for himself. Hogwarts is not the only structure of its kind in the world."

"You mean – Beauxbatons and Durmstrang?"

"I was thinking of other buildings. Of those schools, I do not know for sure. You know," Dumbledore looked at Harry over his glasses, "I don't know everything."

"Could have fooled me, sir."

Harry was rewarded by the sight of Dumbledore's smile. "Hogwarts lives and breathes like a living thing. And it regards the students who pass through its doors as valuable assets. It may, perhaps, even care for them. But it does not discriminate. Perhaps, Harry, even a student who practices the Dark Arts in its walls may be cherished – for bringing an unusual strata of magic to the strength of the school."

"So you're saying that Hogwarts itself might… defend Voldemort?" The idea was horrible.

"It might not see a difference between Voldemort and yourself, to take just two examples of students. The attacks during your second year – you remember how so many of the Petrified victims were spared death by a whim of chance?"

"Yes."

"That was the magic of Hogwarts itself at work. Protecting its people."

"Its assets."

"Its leaves."

They sat in silence for a while. Harry tried to square the idea of Hogwarts not seeing a difference between the vilest Death Eater and the gentlest first-year, so long as they had both been students. It was not a comforting one.

"Shall I keep this secret, sir?"

Dumbledore paused a long time before answering. He said, "There is great power here, but it can be turned to evil ends. If you share this, Harry, be sure you tell someone you absolutely trust."

He nodded. "I understand." Ron and Hermione's faces flashed into his mind. Rapidly, his imagination sketched Hermione's reaction to this story, and the questions she'd asked. He said, "Sir – one last question."

"As many questions as you like, Harry."

"The magical structure – what's it called? Are there any others in the world?"

"In a textbook, it would be called Arboreum Stellaris – a Star-Tree. Hogwarts is a particularly old and fine example, but there are others. They occur all over the world. There is a younger Star-Tree in Tibet – I was lucky enough to visit it some years past." Dumbledore took out another pair of sugar quills. Harry took this as a sign that the most serious part of the conversation as over.

"You look thoughtful, Harry." Dumbledore proferred the sugar quill. "What is on your mind?"

Harry took the quill. "Er – sir, to tell the truth, I've been trying to get the song 'Fat-Bottomed Girls' out of my head for the last few minutes."

Dumbledore looked surprised, then laughed. "I do apologize, Harry. I offer no excuse – my love of Queen goes back many years. Yes, Freddie Mercury has my respect and admiration. He and I have many things in common."

"Did you ever meet him?"

"Yes," and for a moment Dumbledore's eyes had their familiar twinkle again, "but that is another story and will be told another time."


End file.
